


A Broken Prayer

by SlothasaurusRex



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe, Brothels, Dominance, M/M, Masochism, Master/Slave, Past Child Abuse, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9199376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlothasaurusRex/pseuds/SlothasaurusRex
Summary: Pain and sorrow reside in Kyle Broflovski's world. Abandoned and mistreated, he accepts Mrs Popkins' offer to be a prostitute in exchange for food and shelter. Terrible misfortunes happen behind Une Fleur's doors, and Kyle has a choice, suffer in silence or gamble his life for freedom. With the tiniest flicker of spirit still lit inside of him, he lets an old acquaintance break him down to be free once again.





	1. Chapter 1

_ Tick tock. _

A minute had passed.

_ Tick tock, tick tock. _

A minute and four seconds.

_ Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock. _

A minute and eight seconds.

Time was the only comfort Kyle Broflovski had left. It reminded him that he was real, that he was still alive. He savoured every sound, every tick, every second that went by. It seemed slow and endless, but to him that was a bliss. The quicker time was the quicker he had to go to work, which he tried to avoid as much as possible. The slower time was the more freedom he had to himself, he could remain in his fantasy world while enclosed in the restricted four-walled room.

Kyle soothed his hand over his sores. He was still in pain from the other day.

“Strike two,” he muttered, “Strike two she said.”, caressing a deep purple bruise, staring with fascination over his other welts and wounds. This is a reminder, he thought to himself, that I am still alive.

Mrs Popkins was a vile creature, both in character and in appearance, she had a face that Kyle thought resembled that of a rat. Her face was small, with beady dark eyes and a long, thin, bony nose. Two of Mrs Popkin’s upper teeth stuck out of her mouth and seemed to constantly suck at her bottom lip, usually sucking harder when she was in thought or distress. Wiry brown hair that was pulled into a bun so tight that it appeared to tug and stretch the skin on her forehead. It was a surprise that Mr Popkins asked for her hand in marriage, but she did make her husband a lot of money. Though hideous, she was smart and cunning in her ways. She liked power, she loved money, but more than anything else, she  _ despised  _ failure. There was no room for error in her eyes.

Under their mother’s orders, Mrs Popkins’ sons roughed up Kyle. They were tough boys, large and bulky, their mere presence alone was intimidating. All her boys adored their mother, and never questioned her commands, no matter how cruel or gruesome the demand was. They would always obey with a hundred-and-one percent effort.

Kyle admitted it was his fault for getting caught due to his brash and irresponsible behaviour. He should have been patient, more cautious, but he was in such a hurry for the taste of freedom that he abandoned all rational thoughts and went through with a risky escape. It was a foolish mistake.

Strike one was more horrible than strike two in Kyle’s opinion, it was far worse. Mrs Popkins was unsatisfied with his work ethic and had him starved and dehydrated for three days. This occurred only one week after he was recruited. Kyle was certain it was to scare him so he would never disobey or double-cross her.

“I have three strikes, Kyle. If you treat this like a game, I’ll treat you like a game. Three strikes and you’re out.” He remembered those words clearly when she locked him in the cupboard during his starvation period. The way she sucked on her bottom lip and hissed out her s’s which made spit spritz through her teeth. Kyle shuddered. He could still feel her cold spit splatting against his cheeks.

He’d admit, he was terrified, not only of her, but of the whole place. It was an unkind world, no one but yourself to look out for. He had been at the brothel for a while but he still barely knew any of the other workers names, not that it mattered very much to him. He thought it was better to fend for himself, other people would be a distraction. He lost his faith in others after the incident.

It all began ten years ago, when TrollTrace was released to the public. Before TrollTrace’s systems were shut down, Sheila Broflovski discovered Skankhunt42’s real identity, her very own husband. Scrolling through the site, she saw her husband’s evil and grotesque commentary. Things weren’t the same after that.

Kyle’s mom tried to confront her husband, but he kept denying it at first, pushing the blame onto their youngest son, Ike. This only empowered Sheila’s fury. Arguments were long and loud, progressively getting worse. During Kyle’s final year at South Park Elementary, his parents agreed on a divorce. Gerald took Ike under full custody, and Kyle left under his mother’s care, who had decided to start a new life in New Jersey.

Sheila had regressed back into her carouse, juvenile self after their move. It was unbearable for the young ginger boy, who was often left to take care of his mother’s drunken state. It moved swiftly from just alcohol to drugs. She abandoned all morality and indulged in reckless behaviour; unprotected sex, drink driving, fighting in bars. Her careless nature was affecting her developing teenage son. His once empathetic and righteous attitude got warped into a miserable, bitter individual. Gradually, as time went by, his friends deserted him, except for Stan, who knew the reasons behind Kyle’s peculiar behaviour.

Once Kyle began high school, his behaviour became more violent and aggressive, taking out his frustration on his fellow peers, mocking them sadistically. He turned his sadistic behaviour towards Stan, destroying bit by bit the good that was inside of him, everything that Kyle envied. The warmth, the love, the tenderness, the care, he wanted to destroy it all. Stan eventually grew tired of the redhead, blocking him permanently out of his life, stating that he would never help his once best friend again in his life. That was fine by Kyle, he believed he didn’t need anyone but himself.

That was until his mother was violent towards him. She had lost some of her pills and criticised her son, blaming him for their disappearance, eventually striking him across his cheek. As days went by, her anger and resentment became stronger, being released into harsh blows against her eldest son. After almost stabbing him with a knife because of a haunting hallucination she was suffering from, Kyle had decided to return to Colorado to live with his dad.

The relationship between Gerald and Kyle had grown stale over the years. Kyle’s father knew he was no longer the kind soul he used to be and feared his own son. For his own and Ike’s safety, he kept their distance from Kyle, speaking to him only briefly on birthdays and Hannukah. Kyle knew his behaviour was antisocial, but only after his mother’s violence against him did he realise how much he must have hurt others. After that realisation, he wanted to make amends with his friends, with his family.

It was an exhausting  journey for the adolescent. He hitched rides and trekked endlessly through various weather conditions. He had nothing to his name except for the clothes on his back and some loose change in his pockets, which was only enough just to suffice food at gas stations on his wander. Sometimes the strangers who offered rides were kind enough to lend him some money for food, or share their snacks with him.

After travelling for about a month, Kyle arrived in his hometown. With a muddy face and worn clothes ruined to rags, he gave a teary-eyed smile. There was an immediate feeling of relief bubbling up inside of him. After so many years he felt once again secure and safe, all he had left to do was return home.

Once Kyle had arrived at his old house, he was taken aback to see two complete strangers answering the door. He questioned what they were doing in his father’s home, and they corrected him, stating that it was their home and the previous owner had left with his son to England. Unsatisfied with that response, Kyle called in his father’s workplace with the last bit of change that he had. According to his father’s employers, Gerald was fired years ago after the Skankhunt42 fiasco. In their words, they couldn’t trust someone of that sort to be involved in law work.

After the new found truth, Kyle felt lost and broken. The one hope he had left had disappeared, as if everything he was hoping for was hanging on by the thinnest thread from a frayed string. He knew only one other person he could turn to. He dragged his aching feet across the ankle-deep snow, forcing his exhausted body to the Marsh residence.

Stan answered Kyle’s persistent knocking, and Kyle had to swiftly jam his arm and leg inside as Stan was quick to slam the door on him, crushing his limbs. Kyle had to bite back his tongue, he wanted to lash out and swear at Stan so badly, but he was his last chance, so he gulped down his quick temper and bitter pride, and calmed himself with steady breaths. Once the pain and anger withered away, he pleaded with the dark haired boy to listen. Assuming that the boy’s silence was complying with Kyle’s wishes, he told his tale, begging his once friend to let him stay.

The words that hissed out through Stan’s lips made the thin thread holding together the frayed string of Kyle’s hope snap, falling into a black abyss of sorrow, “I told you to never come to me for help ever again. Fuck you Kyle, you’re on your own.” and with that, he pushed Kyle to the ground, slamming the door in his face.

Kyle felt like crying, but he knew it would be useless. There was no use in crying, the damage was done, he reaped what he had sowed. He was on his own. He got up, brushing down his dirt stained jeans, and walked away to begin a lonesome life.

He refused to return to New Jersey, Kyle knew his mother would act wickedly to him if he returned, and truth be told, he would rather be on the streets than be with her for another second. He had no money, a middle school diploma which remained in New Jersey and a lost faith in humanity.

Kyle was homeless for a long while, he lost track of the days that went by, his only source for time being the seasons that changed around him. He thought it was probably Autumn by the time Mrs Popkins found him.

She was on the hunt for new employees, and she found just what she was looking for. A young man at the end of his rope, broken and the spirit beaten out of him, someone who looked terribly malnourished and desperate to make any ends meet. She promised him shelter and food if he worked for her. He foolishly agreed.

It was an exotic brothel, vibrant and rich in appearance. There was a range of workers, varying in height, weight, shape, sex, race and age; there was no shortage in diversity. Strong men guarded all areas in and out of the brothel, some were Mrs Popkins’ boys, some were paid employees. It was so large and extravagant, Kyle wondered why the police hadn’t found it and shut down the brothel. Later he found out that some of the customers were the police force and that Mrs Popkins bribed the local authorities with a large sum of money to keep them quiet.

All the workers looked miserable. Despite the smiling faces and happy appearances they gave to Mrs Popkins and her customers, Kyle saw when their heads were turned that their smiles sunk and their eyes were bleak. Almost everyone working in that damned place was as broken as he was, and Kyle was certain he didn’t want to find out what kind of backgrounds they all came from.

Those who worked hard and got high approval from customers were treated exceptionally well. They were given the biggest rooms, the nicest meals, and sometimes a little bit of freedom into the open world, escorted by a security guard of course so they couldn’t run away.

Kyle wanted that life, he tried hard to obtain it, for two days at least. After sleeping in a warm bed and being fed he came to his senses, he didn’t want to sell his body. Despite everything he’d been through he was still a very proud person. He began to be difficult with clients in order to get fired. The customers made complaints to Mrs Popkins, which resulted in Kyle being imprisoned for three days without food or water as punishment. Not exactly what he was hoping for.

The young man decided to comply after that, if only to keep Mrs Popkins satisfied until he found an escape. After a few months, he found a pattern in a security guard by the name of Jerry in his routine. He was often on night duty, and the brothel went quiet during the early hours of the morning. Jerry guarded the front door four days a week, and by the third day of Jerry’s nightshift, he would fall asleep approximately at half five in the morning.

Kyle snuck underneath an empty desk that resided next to Jerry after completing his nightly sex duties. He would wait until he heard no footsteps and the sound of Jerry’s slumbering breath.

The hours ticked by slowly, and Kyle was certain Jerry was snoring when the brothel went quiet, however it wasn’t yet safe to leave. Nearby he could still hear the patter of footsteps and light chatter. The redhead had grown impatient, and waited only a couple of minutes after the quiet talk had died down. Risking his escape, he sprinted out, a group of six guards standing right in front of him, surprised by the man’s sudden appearance. Once they realised what was going on, Kyle had ran out of the doors, the guards soon chasing after him. He was caught of course.

It was a violent beating that Mrs Popkins asked for, a punishment so painful that he wouldn’t think to do it again. He was beaten viciously with fists and clubs and belts. It hurt a lot, it still hurt, but it didn’t destroy Kyle’s dream, in fact it made it stronger. He knew what would would happen if he upset Mrs Popkins again, he saw others around him who had reached their third strike. Mrs Popkins would display the torment in front of the other employees as a warning, and boy, was it gruesome.

Once you hit a third strike with Mrs Popkins, you never came back. It was a risk that Kyle was willing to take.


	2. Chapter 2

Eric Cartman was not a patient man. He was smart and clever with money, he knew how to handle a business, but by no means was he patient; things were either his way or no way. He was often called ruthless and merciless, he knew that’s what they said behind his back, but he would always eventually avenge his pride once the doors were shut. He was smart, and it was not smart to badmouth Eric Cartman.

He did well to earn his title, Eric worked extremely hard to achieve it, and it was very likely that after his boss retired he would take over the trading stocks. He gained his boss millions, which meant he favoured Eric considerably. This gave Eric power over his co-workers, and no matter how much they disliked him or disagreed with his methods, they had to comply with his demands.

Those who were once his friends were now envious of his power and wealth, and he savoured their bitter jealousy every second, he loved how much lower they were compared to him.

He stood up, pacing over to the clear glass wall, staring with admiration at his reflection. He straightened his tie and pressed the creases out of his shirt with the palms of his hands. He had thinned out into a healthy weight, no longer fat (even though he still argued that he was just big boned), but broad, with a rounded face. He was tall and big-shouldered, masculine in his appearance. He started to tweak little strands of his hair and picked at some spinach that was embedded in the crevices of his teeth. He was slightly anxious, but with excitement, for that evening’s event, and he was making sure he looked as smart as possible for it.

He was attending Une Fleur, one of the best brothels in Colorado, and one of the only places he could freely have sex with men without feeling judged. It was exotic and rich in taste, fanciful and vibrant, there were rarely any complaints from fellow customers. However he had heard recently that one of the brothel’s prostitutes attempted an escape, but was caught and viciously beaten for their disobedience. Though he was sure it was only but a rumour, he secretly hoped it was true, Eric would have liked to admire the prostitute’s damaged skin and hurt them some more. That was another wonderful thing about Une Fleur, your tastes did not matter, there was always a prostitute adjusted to your needs.

Turning his computer off and grabbing his Lexus car keys, he went into the elevator, daydreaming as the lift descended from the top to the ground floor about the wonderful men he would play with that evening.

 

Kyle was leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, his bruised skin exposed by his loosely fitted white tank top and tight black denim shorts. Remixed pop music was booming through the speakers while the dancers swung around on their poles. It amazed him how they had the flexibility and strength to pole dance. Mrs Popkins tried to teach him once, to see if he had any special skills that could be useful for the brothel, but it was an embarrassing, unsuccessful fiasco that Kyle forced to be blocked out of his memory. Instead, because of his recurring disobedience, he had been put in the lowest class, which meant no matter what, he had to pleasure and obey any customer’s wishes.

None of the customers seemed interested in Kyle, possibly because people gossiped about his behaviour. Word spread quickly at Une Fleur, especially when a lot of the employees would give a bad word about you in order to get more clients to please Mrs Popkins. It was always like that, only ever looking out for yourself and nobody else. Kyle had to act fast, because he knew that Mrs Popkins’ boys were watching with a keen eye, and if he didn’t act accordingly it would be the end for him.

Forcing to take one step forward, he went to find a client, hoping that the seconds were slow in order to buy him some time.

 

Eric Cartman found the music to be tasteless and obnoxious. He usually would come at a later time when more of the classier action would happen, but he had grown tired of waiting and arrived earlier than usual, at a time when the less fanciful events occurred.

He wanted to find a man quick so he could escape from the agonising noise that was wrongly labelled music. He was thinking of suggesting to the owner some Britney Spears songs.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a glimpse of a ginger boy with beaten skin. Gingers weren’t his type, but he had a fine body that screamed for Eric to come over. Something seemed awfully familiar to him as well, but he couldn’t identify what it was. Curious and full of impatient lust, he paced towards him.

Unfortunately as soon as Eric had approached the redhead, he had stepped away.

Fucking bastard, he thought and went to reach for the worthless vermin.

 

As soon as Kyle made the first few steps, he felt a sharp pain tugging from his scalp that pulled him back. The pain caused him to scream and curse.

Kyle immediately assumed it was one of Mrs Popkins’ boys grabbing at him, ready to take him away. Feeling panicked, Kyle started to kick his legs to force himself away, jabbing with his elbows at the man behind him.

“I’m working, I’m working, let me go!” he spoke hastily. He heard the man behind him respond, but he couldn’t register what he said, “You can’t kill me, I’m about to be with a customer! Let go you fucking bastard!”

Another one of Mrs Popkins’ boys was walking towards them. Kyle’s heart was pounding loudly through his chest and he could hear his blood pumping through his ears. His breathing quickened and his chest felt tight. He was finished if he didn’t escape, and he refused to go down without a fight!

 

“Is there a problem, sir?” the bulky man in front of Eric asked. Eric was still holding the redhead by his hair, and he continued to squirm underneath him. The hefty male looked ominously at the man beneath his grip.

“No problem,” Eric smiled, wrapping his large arms around the boy, “everything’s fine.” He could feel the prostitute tremble from fear, which made Eric feel a tightness in his pants. The large man stared for a moment before muttering, “If you need anything, just talk to me or any of the other guards.” before shuffling away.

Eric laughed menacingly. The boy was perfect! He could tell that the redhead was in trouble with Une Fleur, which meant he had to obey Cartman’s every will.

The prostitute’s demeanour seemed to calm, which was a disappointment, but he knew he could rile him up again, all he had to do was threaten to call over the guards. The boy’s breath steadied and his shoulders relaxed, and he turned his head towards Eric.

Great, Eric thought, this slut is going to offer himself to me.

But as soon as the redhead looked up at Eric, his wicked smile was wiped off his face.

 

Kyle wanted to fight, but he wasn’t sure if there was anything he could do. The guard behind him had him in a tight hold, and he was about to be trapped by the man in front. If Kyle wanted to escape he had to think of a plan, and fast.

As his mind was rushing with ideas, he failed to notice that the guard in front didn’t grab at Kyle, but instead was having a conversation with the man from behind.

Kyle thought rapidly, ideas of offering blowjobs or setting the building on fire, but none of them were good enough.

Time was going quickly, he could feel each second speed by, and it agonised him. He needed more time.

Suddenly, Kyle felt the man from behind grab a hold over his upper body, and he shivered from fear. Time was going too fast, it wasn’t enough time to keep him alive. The guard in front spoke again, but he couldn’t hear him. He thought that they were conspiring on how to get rid of him.

To his surprise, the guard in front moved away. Kyle took deep, long breaths to calm himself. He wasn’t thinking rationally and if he wanted to escape death, he needed to be calm so he could evaluate the situation properly.

After he had relaxed, Kyle realised that the guard from behind wasn’t keeping him trapped, but was hugging him. It was a customer, not a guard.

He tilted his head towards the mysterious person. The man was tall with light brown hair gelled to the side, warm chestnut eyes and an elegant suit to match his rich aura. He seemed familiar to Kyle.

The stranger had a malicious smirk, but when he saw Kyle his eyes went wide, and the corners of his mouth curled into a frown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUUUUN  
> STAY TUNED FOLKS!

**Author's Note:**

> Personally, I hate adding OCs into fanfiction stories, but I needed an antagonist, so here we have Mrs Popkins (who sounds like a villain from a children's book). She's not in it much, but she's important.  
> I hope you guys are interested so far, because I really want this tale to go well.


End file.
